


Memory

by lemon7199



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Song: Memory (Cats)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon7199/pseuds/lemon7199
Summary: November 1981.





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd. First piece of actual writing after a long hiatus due to mental illness. Hoping to get back into it, but time will tell. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> I own nothing, the character belongs to JK Rowling, and the song to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
> 
> This piece of writing is not in anyway condoning JKR's actions and opinions. Trans lives matter.

Midnight. His weathered boots made next to no sound over cobbled pavement, the attached shadow moving clockwise around his body as he moved from lamplight to lamplight. Alone, with only his shadows as company, he turned his head against the skies. From above, the waxing moon sent her blue light to the street, her cold gaze mixing with the lamplights’ warm yellow. The silence was cut only momentarily as the wind scattered withered leaves from the park across the street, and the grip around his chest tightened as the wind moaned gloomily.

Memory. He smiled. Inhaling sharply, eyes glazed over as he was flooded with times of old. Of times when the moon did not seem all that sad, and the wind moaning into his hair brought joy instead of fright. Pushing his tawny hair out of weary eyes, enveloped in warmth and a different array of smell and sound and taste. The wind had tasted of happiness, of the forest pulled apart as he ran from midnight until dawn.  
The streetlight flickered. A fatalistic warning to bring him back. Eyes darkened with his exhale. Morning was close, and while dawn would rid the streets of loneliness, it could do nothing to ease him of his solitude.

Daylight. The empty park shifted as the first lights of dawn hit, the remaining November leaves bathed in light as golden as they were, as they had been. All of them. And now, nothing. Nothing remained of what once had been. To lay himself down and accept his fate had crossed his mind more than once, to let the shadows and the moon devour him and his senses. And still, he could not. Something beckoned him to resist, to tackle every day as new. For them. For him. The dawn would turn the night into a memory, fading more and more each day. They faded, the memories of them, of him, masquerading themselves.

Alone. He was alone. And as the cold embrace of the moon and the moaning wind shifted, replaced with warm sun and the smell of newly baked bread, another night had passed. As the streets began crowding with morning commuters, he turned his face away from the sky and began walking. Alone with his memories of his days in the sun. The smile had since long vanished from his lips, and as the crowds split around him like the Red Sea he walked to face the new day.


End file.
